Gone
by Gavoot the Scoot
Summary: She hadn't honestly died, had she? It'd only been a background noise, an engine backfiring in the parking lot. But why was there someone telling her she had to go? Why were they taking her away from her brother? Why was he crying? She hadn't meant to make him cry... Explanation inside (which is long tbh sorry)
1. Chapter 1

**Ugh, so I know now that I can never finish a fanfiction-seriously, I have at _least_ thirty stories on my computer, all different variations of the same freaking people and all Transformers, because that's where my muse is raging hard right now. Coincidentally, that's what this type of fanfiction is-even if there aren't any mentions of them in this excerpt, which is a pitiful attempt at a prologue. Of course, it's _way_ better than the only other story I have published on this site, from like three years ago or something from when you all knew me as _Falling Storm_ or _Captured Spirits_ or _Fandom Jumping Expert_ or even my first stupid username, _StormxRaven_. So bad. I'm horrible. Now I changed my username to something I hopefully won't have to change again, Gavoot the Scoot. Feel free to ask me how some random person came up to me and told me that before going off again to eat lunch in peace. It stuck. I liked it. So yeah.**

 **It was horrible, I never got around to deleting it, and about a month ago I figured 'hey, why not try and rewrite it like I said I would all that time ago?'**

 **Nah, didn't happen. I actually have a few chapters of that, new and improved, but seriously? I forgot everything I knew about _Warriors_ in the few years I haven't even _looked_ at the books. And I'm really regretting that-because _Warriors_ is a beautiful series, one I am definitely putting on my _read-again_ list. It's just not at the top of my list. That spot goes to the two series _The Belgariad_ and _The Malorean,_ both by David Eddings. My dad actually introduced me to the series, and I've been hooked since five years ago. And then we moved and most of the books got lost somehow. So yeah. Looking to buy replacements of those, not to mention all the _Harry Potter_ and _Percy Jackson_ books I've read to the point those books are falling apart. **

**So yeah, Life is my excuse for not publishing any stories and just going around, reading others and writing my own, not-even-half-finished Transformers fanfictions. _Thirty_ of them! I counted! Ugh, and that's not even including all the stories I've deleted because I don't like the way it turned out. Much like my other story, which I won't mention on here because it's so bad. To be honest, I feel embarrassment for myself every time I go through it again whenever I'm bored and feel like burning my eyes out.**

 **Can't believe I wrote all that out on a tablet. Two years ago. Hopefully I can say I've improved a ton since then.**

 **But yeah, a little more before you go on to the story-excerpt-thing. This is just a teaser thing, something to see if I want to continue to let it grow. I forgot about this for about a month before I remembered I was going to post on here to see, but if you do, just please be aware that if I _do_ continue this, updates will be sporadic, ranging from days to weeks to months, maybe even a year. It's just how I am, my attention span for my stories is _way_ too short.**

 **So there we are! Read on, I guess, and leave your comments in the review. Don't be shy, if you hate it, slam me, I'd honestly rather have harsh criticism than a one-worded review. But I can't exactly complain, it's really good enough for me if anyone even _reads_ the damn thing. Pardon my language. Enjoy the story I edited at midnight yesterday. **

**And Happy Holidays (for whatever holiday you may celebrate)! Have a good night (or day, wherever you are).**

 **Also please forgive any spelling or word errors, a few keys on my laptop aren't working because it's an old hunk-a-junk and spell check doesn't catch them and the words end up being something I don't mean it to be. And I know my luck is that there are a few words I'll catch in a few hours or days when I reread, even though I've gone through this thing (more trouble than it's probably worth) about a dozen times, combing through for any errors of that type. I should probably have put most of this stuff at the bottom. Oh well.**

* * *

It didn't hurt at first, if she was being completely honest with herself. If she really tried, she could almost convince herself that it wasn't really happening. It was only in her mind. An engine had just backfired in the parking lot, right?

The fact that her body was falling forward limply was only a hallucination, that the people screaming her name—or screaming in general—were just the results of ringing in her ears. Because the bullet that had flown hadn't really hit her, had it? Because the blood wasn't _really_ soaking through her clothes, pooling on the shiny linoleum underneath her, was it?

And her eyes weren't just staring blankly upward. They were searching, moving, darting about. Everything seemed to happen so _slowly._ Her brother kneeling above her, worry and fear covering the entirety of his face—but mostly converging in those ocean—blue eyes. Already she could see how they were going to dull, how dark circles were going to form in his eyes from lack of sleep, how those lip would never pull into a mischievous grin around her again. But she was still breathing, wasn't she? Her chest rising up and down? Her heart still beating?

His mouth was moving, but she couldn't really hear anything. She wasn't sure what would happen if she tried to speak. Would she be too loud? Too quiet? Would the pain start?

All her life, she'd been all right with the thought of dying. That she wasn't really _afraid_ of Death taking her by the hand and leading her down the path to the afterlife. But that had been on the assumption she was going to die peacefully, old, after a full life of longevity and happiness.

Not at the age of seventeen, in a run-down diner, with a bullet lodged in her left lung. Maybe her heart.

Now that she was faced with the thought of leaving them, her family, what few friends she had, her _life_ , she found she didn't _want_ to die. She didn't want to die. _Why have that thought now?_

She had to try and speak. Just one last time. Even if it meant the hazy bubble settling over her body would burst, and everything would come rushing in at once, and her death would suddenly become very, _very_ painful.

So the girl attempted to take in a deep breath, wincing as a small streak of pain shot through her ribs, and forced her gaze over to her brother. The one that had always been there for her, especially when their parents had died. Car crash, pretty cliche. But no one ever thinks things like that could happen to them until it did. Just like . . . she never thought someone would come to their _small_ town, to this tiny diner hardly anyone knew about, and just start shooting.

But she needed to get back on track. She had to do this before she died.

"B-bryan," She managed to choke out, voice gurgling in her throat behind the hazy fog that covered her mind. She was kind of glad for it, even though her words were slurring horribly. "Bryan, I-I—"

The older boy hushed her softly, one hand moving to cup her cheek. "Save your strength, the paramedics are coming, they're almost here."

She sagged, trying to communicate through her eyes that she _knew_ they wouldn't get here on time, that she was likely going to die before they even managed to set up around her. If she was lucky (or maybe unlucky), she'd get to the ambulance before her heart gave out. She was dying either way, and she'd really rather not have it drag out.

"N-no," She mumbled, vision blurring. Was she crying? Or was she going? This soon? She _had_ to tell him. Just—just that, and she'd go. Go willingly. She didn't care anymore. _Just stop the pain!_ "I-I love you." Her voice was slurring to the point her words were hardly recognizable, but Bryan seemed to understand. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he ran his thumb over her cheek. She felt something wet smear across her skin at the action.

So she _was_ crying.

But her face was numbing, as well as the rest of her body, and she knew it was almost time. _But I don't want to go._

"I love you too, Kat," Bryan whispered. "Don't cry. Ok? You—you'll be in a better place, painless, and you'll get to see Mom and Dad again. Don't wait up for me, all right? I've still got a ton of things to plan, might be a few decades late to the party." Her brother smiled wanly (or at least tried to), and she tried to return the gesture.

She wasn't sure it came out how she was trying to get it to look.

Kat hummed softly (well, as much as she could with blood pooling in her mouth and trickling down the corner of her lips), keeping her eyes on Bryan, drinking in his features one last time before she closed her eyes, exhaling softly and shuddering. She didn't inhale again.

Darkness surrounded her, pressing in, deafening, suffocating, making it impossible to tell if she was standing up, sitting down, floating, spinning, or just existing. Right now, she felt like a mere thought, a single feeling, and that scared her. She didn't know how to react to this. She didn't know what to do.

And Kat hated not knowing.

Then something else wrapped around her, slightly less suffocating, and while it did nothing to push the darkness away, she felt as though maybe, somewhere, there was a light she could reach for, a path to venture up to the final part of her life. Death.

She was dead; that was one thought she could not shake no matter how much she might have liked to forget. But this wasn't how she imagined it to be. She thought it would have been more of a forest, an old, well-trodden path, a stone road through an old town that could have been centuries old but no living soul had set an eye on. This darkness, it was _boring._ Scary.

She could have been there for seconds, days, lifetimes, and she'd never know. Her only clue was the faint whispers that slowly got clearer, then louder, to the point she could just barely make them out.

 _Come to me,_ They crooned, spreading around her like mist would a person's breath on a freezing day. _Come with us. We can give you everything. Anything you have ever wanted . . . ._

At first, she was tempted. To have everything she wanted? It sounded like a good enough deal to her. She found herself reaching for the sound, the different, the way out of the seemingly God-forsaken place, but then hesitation pushed through. Those voices—they sounded _intoxicating._ Smoke wreathing around a drug addict, the high fogging a person's mind as they lit a joint, the alcohol whirling in their veins, slurring their words and shortening their tempers.

The voices sounded like everything bad her mother had warned her against. Every dark thing humanity had to offer, every man-made thing that had gone wrong, even nature's attempt at poisoning the parasite leeching off her life, getting rid of the pests that infected her home.

And so she shrank back from the voices, attempting to skirt around in the darkness to get away from the offers, the temptations, the fakeness of if all wanting to make her scream.

She wanted _out_ of there, out of it all, even if it meant she ended up just vanishing forever. She wanted away from the voices, away from the growing loudness, away from the screeching demanded to _Take it and love it_ and the increasingly anger whipping around her, shoving her about, squeezing her tightly and threatening to rip her very soul to shreds, to leave _nothing_ behind.

A ringing started up, loud enough to contest the voices, harsh enough that she flinched away from that too, whirling around desperately and hopelessly, trying to get _away from everything!_

And then it was silent, so silent she was sure her hearing had been cut off entirely. The only difference to the darkness and the silence was that it felt warmer, more welcome, easier to approach.

 _You have done well,_ Another voice, older, larger, more _comforting,_ whispered, wrapping her around in safety and love. Just like how her mother's hugs would feel. _You are safe. Approach your destiny._

The darkness disappeared, making way to a bright, pure white light that had her flinching back again, trying to shield herself.

It felt like she had a body, now—just corporeal. See-through. Barely there.

But it was there and she had one.

Through the bright light, Kat could have sworn she saw a face, smiling down at her with all the warmth and love a parent should possess, but it disappeared as fast as she noticed. The light continually grew brighter, until she had to turn away lest she lose her sight for good.

And everything turned black again.

* * *

 **So there was the prologue for _Gone,_ tell me what you think. _Please_ tell me anything I may or my not have done wrong, or anything I could have improved on. I have a different version of this ready to turn into an original novel, but I wanted to take a crack at writing a fanfiction first. Maybe this time I'll get off my lazy butt and start continuing this story (haha I'm so alone I have none of this story written except for what you've read what am I doing with my life) but it all depends on what you guys think.**

 **And I'm sorry if the bold font is hurting your eyes, it's hurting mine and I'm up way later than I'm supposed to be but oh well.**

 **Meh, I can take refuge in my bed full of teddy bears if I need to. But it's actually starting to kind of get cold here, I may need a blanket tonight.**

 **Well, you can go back to your lives, now. Have a night. Simply have a night. Exist. Just be.**

 **-Gavoot must now Scoot**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, so I saw a few people liked this, and I decided 'hey, since you're up at two in the morning anyway, why not break out the old spiral journal and start writing?' Because writing a story half-asleep at two in the morning is _such_ a good idea, am I right? The next morning, I wrote quite a bit more, which I hope is enough for a good length. Maybe I'll get better at writing lengthier stuff, but I probably wouldn't count on it. Also, I'm sorry if the chapter seems abrupt and fractured, I guess, but that's what I get for thinking writing at Two AM is a good idea. **

**I hope for those of you that are reading this take notice of both the Author's Notes in the first chapter (or prologue, I think it's better called), because those are important. _Way_ important. **

**There is a curse word or two in here, I think just one, and it's in the beginning. Hopefully it isn't too noticeable, even though I have this rated T. Also know the only thing I have planned for this story is somewhat the second movie and that's it, no _Dark Side of the Moon_ and ****no _Age of Extinction_. After _Revenge of the Fallen_ the story goes way off the plot line, and that is probably when this fanfiction is going to mess up _pretty_ badly. Oh, if only I weren't so bad at just rambling while writing and actually _writing._ (To be honest, I have no idea what that means, it's past midnight here)**

 **Thank you to _Bread Mage, OfLifeDeathAndAllBetween, Serene Amarbel Asteria, Whitelilly Prime,_ and _bookwriter123456_ for following and thank you to _Bread Mage, KiraLoveless, and Serene Amarbel Asteria_ for favoriting! I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story!**

 **And thanks to the three reviewers (You guys made my night, _seriously_ ):**

 _ **Birdie Bird** **(Guest): Thank you! I've seen my fair share of 'dying and coming back' stories, but I didn't think this would be**_ **that _original! I just . . . Kat kinda took the scene away from me. I also didn't think my writing would be good enough to make you emotional! It's never happened before, to be honest. But then again, I don't really show anyone my writing . . . I panic if anyone asks to see what I'm writing XD *haha why do I have no confidence in my writing I am sobbing*_**

 ** _bookwriter123456: Thank you, too! To be honest, I can't wait to see where this goes as well. Every time I plan out a story it never happens. Like, the plot never follows what I have written out for it, everything always just goes off the rails. But I guess it's like that for a lot of others as well :P_**

 ** _Bread Mage: Really, I plan out my stories in my head_** — ** _like, I play it out like a movie and write like the way I see it_** — ** _or the way I narrate it in my head. But I also do that for anything I read as well, so I don't know. And thank you! I can never tell when I'm going to be able to update, so I eagerly awate my updates as well, bro X)_**

 **Anyways, with another thanks to those guys, onward with the story!**

* * *

It had been a long while since she'd seen anyone. Of course, waking up in a strange place with no recollection as to how she had ended up there did _wonders_ for her stress levels. On second thought, maybe she should retire from haunting the strange, absolutely large place and become a comedian—she was sure to have people dying with laughter from her witty humor (or lack thereof).

But really. It'd been so long since she had seen another soul, living or otherwise. The last time any of the other people inhabiting the outside world had dared to venture close to her place, she hadn't had a name—or, as better explained, she hadn't _remembered_ it. It . . . the circumstances regarding her name were abnormal at best, as the others tended to call her not-so-nice things. Demon, Ghost, Intruder, take your pick. But she was just Katherine.

And she hated seeing other people hurt. Mentally _or_ physically.

The few times she'd seen someone that had claimed she was dead—or something to that extent—they had been hurting. They were sad, so sad, _terrified_ even, she couldn't have even told them to leave her alone if she had even wanted. What she _did_ want was to _help_ them.

So she had approached the strangely warm person, introduced herself, and asked why he was hurting so much. She had been nice, _tender_ even, and his response had been to shoot at her, telling her to _go to hell._

She hadn't liked being shot at—still didn't. They forced her away to another part of the large place (because it wasn't just one building, but many stitched together) and brought those awful voices back in frightening clarity. The first time she hadn't gotten the message. She tried to approach the man again, and then a third time. Every moment spent in his presence was a moment she spent falling victim to the croons of the wicked.

Finally, she understood. She wasn't wanted. The warmth of his presence only brought temptation and pain.

So she had stayed away. Avoided every warm, hurting soul that ventured through her terrain, no matter how much it pained her to leave them be.

Quite a few times, their pain had driven them past the edge of insanity, to the point they _yearned_ Death's touch. She tried to approach them, to help them ease their soul's pain, but she was always too late.

She was just Katherine. She hated seeing people cry. She tried to take the pain away. She _wanted_ to _help._

And she was terribly alone.

But then _they_ came. She didn't know who they were—well, she didn't even know _what_ they were. Big, giant men made of metal with their souls so warm, so inviting, it was like she could actually reach out and _touch_ them.

They were all hurting _so much._ The pain she felt just from avoiding them for fear of the voices became all but physical—because one could only put up with the agony for so long, right? She'd gone what seemed to be a full month, if she was going over the passage of time correctly. It could have been longer. It _felt_ longer.

But she found a small, secluded room that seemed like no one would be entering for a long while—because what would one need with a tiny storage closet, right?—and she curled into a tiny ball.

And she cried.

She, who hated tears to the point she avoided anything and everyone to prevent them, broke down from the sheer _agony_ in these _tangible_ souls, wishing she could take it from them and make if her own so they wouldn't have to _suffer._

But they always drove her away, She always heard the voices screeching to her from the terrifying darkness, and she could never help.

It was a fate worse than death, a fate she had been doomed to. She had a want, a _need_ to help, to make it right, and she could accomplish nothing but eternal pain for herself because she was foolish enough not to take a hint:

No one wanted help. Even if they needed it. They would not accept it, driving themselves to the brink of extinction to avoid asking for what had to be done.

She had been placed here for a reason. Either it was a reason she hadn't figured out yet, or it was a reason she would forever fail to achieve. Neither of them sounded appealing. For what reason was she to exist, if it wasn't to help stop the hurting?

"Hey, Kid. Miss, what are you doing here?"

She—Katherine—jerked her head up, whipping around to stare in amazement at the pair of men that had managed to sneak up on her. Then realization set in.

Sure, they could see her—everyone she'd come across had been able to see her, but it was the fact that _they_ had approached _her_ that made if all the more shocking. Especially after a month of not even knowing she was here.

The two men scooted forward, and Katherine flinched back, waiting for the familiar darkness to cocoon her, waiting for the all-too-terrifying temptation to slither in, to clamp its hold on her.

 _But it never did._

Slowly, Katherine opened her eyes to stare incredulously at the two men that were inching forward still, cautionary looks on their faces.

She also realized there weren't any pockets to escape through _—_ pockets being a nifty thing she found accidentally, when she walked through a wall and ended up on the other side of the . . . wherever she was, and saw the living humans couldn't follow her (when they were foolish enough to chase after her).

She didn't know where she was, still—or what this gigantic place was called. She didn't know what it had once been. But at the moment it didn't matter.

What _did_ matter was that she was surrounded, cornered, trapped, take your pick. The only way out was past the men. And even _they_ were hurting.

Now that she was up close to them, to the point neither of them were running from each other, she could pick out _why_ they were hurting.

Those two had a family—they had _kids_ to go home to. They were missing their families _badly._

Against her will, more tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, staining her cheeks and glinting in the dim light. The men looked fairly alarmed, one of them creeping forward even more to place a hand on her shoulder.

"Kid . . . you all right? What's wrong?"

Katherine froze, eyes widening and jaw dropping beyond the tears as she simply stared at the one who had spoken. They weren't . . . turning her away? They weren't calling her things? Well, mean things. _Kid_ didn't count. They didn't know her name.

Slowly, lifting a trembling hand, she placed it gently on the closest one's chest—ignoring the way he tensed up slightly—and patted it a couple times. She hadn't spoken in a long while—it was like she'd forgotten how.

The man blinked, almost unable to respond to the charade-like gesture. But the one who had their hand on her shoulder recovered first, shaking himself before guiding her to her feet (when had they sat down?). He started speaking (she vaguely caught their names and a request to follow them), but her attention was mainly on a tugging in her chest. It was strong, insistent, but not painfully so. She was also somewhat aware of being led down a hall, but since that was where the tugging was leading her she didn't resist. Something was going to happen-and _soon_.

Like, sometime that _hour_ soon.

Katherine blinked, and found herself standing in front of the strange, giant, metal men. The largest of which was kneeling in front of her, staring her down with piercing blue eyes.

She may not have felt the need to breathe (or eat, but that was irrelevant at the moment), but she felt herself gasping a little, and a dull ache started up in her lungs—her left lung, to be precise. Her hands were trembling again.

But the tugging in her chest grew even stronger, and she missed the metal man's first words. Again, she reached out with a shaking hand, just barely grazing the warm-to-the-touch-metal. She inhaled sharply, eyes stretching wide before they rolled back in her head and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

 _No!_

Katherine screamed, struggling against the pitch-black darkness. She didn't want to be here! She voices _always_ came. They _always_ do!

And they did.

They came, taking advantage of the isolated, unwanted attention. They shrieked, taunted, and sang. They thrashed around her, whirled through her soul, screeching at her to go with them, trying to bait her.

And all the while, she remembered.

She remembered her brother, the shooter, the diner, the bullet lodged in her left lung—or her heart, she didn't know.

But she remembered _everything._

And she _hated_ it.

She didn't know _when_ the other voices had come. All she knew was that one moment, she was suffering, and in the next moment lighter, _purer_ voices were surrounding her, nudging her away from her spot while protecting and murmuring sweet nothings to her.

All the while, she looked on in terror at the battle between the two pure, absolute energies, knowing that if she dared to venture closer she would be incinerated.

After what felt like _centuries,_ the darker presences fled—but not without spitting some ominous-sounding words she couldn't make out—and the lighter presence turned to her. Her overwhelming fear gradually melted away, giving in to the safeness and security the energy seemed to admit.

If she looked closely, she could have sworn she saw a face in the bright light, smiling softly at her.

 _Go to the Matrix-Bearer, little one._ She hadn't seen the face move, but the voices floated gently around her. _It is not yet our time to speak._

Katherine blinked, openly gaping now, but the figure was gone, and she was left with the feeling that her eyes were closed.

Warmth surrounded her from all sides, trying to lull her into a state of half-asleep, but she fought against it, forcing her eyes open into a bright light. At first, she thought the face in the light had changed their mind, but then the warmth around her shifted, and Katherine found herself face-to-face with a silver Metal Man and a cyan visor glowing down at her accompanied by a bright grin.

"Welcome ta the land o' teh livin', Lil' Lady," The Metal Man announced. His—because his voice sounded masculine, right?—grin shifted to become a little more sincere, and he tipped his helm to her. "An' thanks fo' bringin' meh back."

* * *

 **Hmm, so I know I managed to get a couple of the Autobots in, even though it isn't really direct confrontation like I'm figuring a lot of you want, but never fear, next chapter will bring our favorite alien robots! (How many of you thought that was going to rhyme?) But yeah. I feel like the two chapters I've put out aren't very long. Hopefully as the story progresses I'll be able to write longer chapters. Have I said this before? I'm editing while on painkillers . . . probably not the best of things to go hand-in-hand. Meh. My foot isn't hurting and I'm happy.**

 **I'm not going to ask you to review, because (to be honest) I don't really review, and I know there are others out there who are more of silent readers as well, but _really,_ if you have and comments on how I write, or any errors you see, or if you're just in a really bad mood and want to take it out on my story, just type out something, _anything,_ and hit the button. **

**Oh, yes, as well: My disclaimer is on my bio. It's in all caps, at the beginning of the thing, can't miss it. But I'll say in here in case some of you want to be fickle: _I don't own Transformers._ Hasbro does, and I'll see lightning strike in the same place twice before I own Transformers. It's a dream many will have, and it's something no one will probably achieve (I wonder if Bill Gates would be able to buy the rights to Transformers or something if he _really_ wanted to. Just a thought).**

 **Goodbye, thank you for taking the time to read my story (and actually making it all the way to the end), and have a night/day, wherever you may be. Just simply exist, do whatever makes you feel you.**

 **-Gavooting is Scooting**


	3. It's an AN But Guys I Need Your Help

I'm so sorry for coming back out of the blue but GUYS this is important (to me, at least) and I'm sorry I didn't at least have a chapter to go with it—

BUT

SO

 _Gone_

I lost _everything_ on it

I'm debating turning it into a bunch of drabbles of one-shots, maybe small arcs of Katherine's times with the Autobots and NEST, but the problem is I've got severe writer's block right now—and I've had it for about a year, a little after I updated last. Pathetic, right?

Losing my old hard drive with _all_ my stories on it completely crushed my motivation _AND_ I'm trying to graduate highschool early so I'm cramming credits and that's taking up a lot of my time so

The point is I need help.

I need _inspiration._

Like ideas and prompts and how you think Kat would react to any one person or Autobot. ( _Or Decepticon y'know?_ )

See, the thing with Kat is that she's an empath. Except, she only feels the negative, and something in her tells her that she needs to help then before that negative turns destructive—whether for that person or to other people.

But, the _other_ thing is that Kat's dead. She died, she passed through the veil and was well on her way to the Afterlife. So why is she in Diego Garcia? Why is she tangible? Maybe something happened that prevented her from crossing to the Afterlife? And just how did she bring Jazz back to life?

I'm thinking, like I mentioned above, instead of just making a big story I'll keep forgetting about, I could do drabbles and one-shot and small arcs that gradually tell the story—of course, you guys can request that Kat meet with any certain someone (or some _thing_ ) whether you want it normal or angst or kinda fluff. It'll be kind of a first-come-first serve, but if someone reviews first on every chapter, I'll only take their request once. And if there seems to be multiple requests of the same thing, I'll write that instead.

 _ALSO PLEASE IGNORE THE SUMMARY ON MY PROFILE I'M REWRITING IT_

 _IT NO LONGER HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY I'M CHANGING COURSES GUY IT'S A COMPLETE 180_

 _Or maybe 90_ _I'm not sure yet bUT STILL_

 _ **Also Don't worry I'll delete this A/N after I'm able to get this thing rolling again**_

↑ ↑ ↑ ↑ Notice how this is bold and italics because I want you guys to see this so you know I won't be breaking the rules for long so I s2g if I get someone commenting on this story _it's breaking the rules you gotta take it down_ I diddly darn well know I'm breaking the rules I can't write anything right now otherwise I'd have a CHAPTER to but before or after it and this is already super short I'm trying to get my ass back in gear alright I'm trying to get better at writing but I can't do anything with this stupid as blueberries in apple juice writer's block so kindly take your complaints elsewhere that isn't this story. For all I care, put it on my other demon who crawled up from hell so I have a reason to delete _that_ one.

(Holy crap this is short)

Take Care guys, and _please read the entire thing I'm begging you_

~Gavoot must now Scoot


End file.
